Diablo

by Georgina Gentry

  He dragged Joe’s body behind a nearby log in the brush. Then he returned to the blanket by the fire, where the running iron glowed red-hot. He slid the rifle under the blanket and sat down cross-legged in the open to wait for the gunfighter to appear.

  Diablo and Sunny rode toward the clearing in silence. The sounds of meadowlarks and the horses’ snorting seemed loud in the bright silence. There was so much she wanted to say to him, and yet, nothing to say. Whatever his past crimes, she didn’t care, God help her. She loved him, and nothing else mattered. Except he didn’t love her as much as he loved his life as a gunfighter.

  A shot echoed and re-echoed faintly through the hills.

  Diablo reined in, ever alert. “Sounds like we’ve got a reception waitin’ for us.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe Hurd would do something that underhanded and dirty. Didn’t you tell him to come unarmed?”

  He grinned without mirth. “You don’t know what Kruger is capable of. He nudged his horse forward, riding toward the rendezvous. He wanted so much to tell her everything, but he did not think she would believe him. Anyway, what did it matter? He intended to try to stick by the agreement: turn Sunny over to Kruger and let the rancher put her on the train to Boston. After she was safely away, they could continue their feud.

  He looked back at her as they rode, and he thought he saw tears glistening on her fair cheeks. Maybe her show of emotion was only because she was about to be rescued and was relieved.

  On the crest of a hill before they reached the clearing, he reined in and took off his gun belt, hung it over his saddle horn. When she looked questioningly at him, he said, “Remember I told him I’d come unarmed.”

  She looked surprised. “You trust Hurd?”

  He shook his head. “But I didn’t want you caught in a cross fire. One more thing.” He paused and looked away. He didn’t know how to tell her he would miss her and he didn’t want to let her go.

  “Yes?” she said, with moist, full lips that he remembered so well, looking at him with those eyes the color of a Texas sky. What good would it do to prolong this?

  “I—I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry for whatever trouble I caused you. I wish you success in Boston.”

  She seemed to be having a difficult time speaking. “Good luck to you, too. Take good care of Wolf and Onyx.”

  “I will.”

  There was a long, awkward pause.

  Then Diablo sighed and nudged his horse forward. “It’s almost time. Kruger will be waitin’.”

  Behind him, she said, “Suppose Hurd doesn’t follow the rules? Suppose he’s waiting with a bunch of cowboys and an ambush?”

  He shook his head without looking back. “I think Kruger will be afraid of hitting you. I’ll hand you over, and you ride out of range.”

  “Diablo—no, Jim,” she implored, “why don’t you just drop me off and ride on out without getting within rifle range?”

  He turned in his saddle and smiled at her. “If that’s what you want. I’d hate to kill Kruger in front of you.”

  “For me, can’t you just forget about your revenge? Go on back to Texas and that ranch in the Big Bend you want. While I’m in Boston, I’d like to think you were alive and well out there.”

  He looked over at her and scowled. “Do you realize what you’re asking? This showdown has been all I’ve thought of for fifteen years, and you’re asking me to turn tail and run?”

  “Not run,” she shook her head. “Maybe Hurd will bring other men with him. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for you riding into a trap and getting killed.” Tears overflowed her eyes.

  “For God’s sake baby, don’t cry!” For a long moment, he fought an inner battle. “This vengeance means everything to me. I don’t have any other purpose in life.”

  “And if word gets out you killed the biggest rancher in Johnson County, others will be challenging you. You’ll always be a gunfighter until the day a faster man gets you. For me, wouldn’t you rather be just a rancher named Jim Durango?”

  “You ask too much,” he murmured.

  “Diablo—Jim, if you ever cared even a little about me, just stay out of range, drop me off and ride out. Do it for me.”

  There was a long silence, and when she saw his throat working and his eyes moistened, he took a deep breath and said, “All right, I’ll do it, for whatever I meant to you.”

  She smiled then. “Good. Have a great life in Texas.”

  They rode on in the twilight silence, and finally, they spotted the little campfire in the clearing.

  She said, “Why don’t you stop right here? You’re out of rifle range on this ridge. I’ll go down and talk to Hurd and tell him I’m not going to marry him.”

  “He’s not gonna like that.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ll tell him I’m going to Boston, and he can take me to the train. I think he’ll lose interest in you once I’m no longer your captive.”

  “I don’t think so.” Diablo shook his head. “He knows he has to kill me or he’ll always be lookin’ over his shoulder. I reckon after fifteen years, he’s weary of that.”

  “Diablo—Jim, in spite of everything, well—” She didn’t finish. She rode up close to him and leaned over and kissed him.

  He started in surprise, and then his arms encircled her as if he’d like to hold and protect her forever. He kissed her back with a heat and a passion that made her head spin, and she didn’t want him to ever let her go. “Good-bye, Jim Durango,” she whispered, “I’ll never forget you.”

  He tried to say something; then he swallowed hard, and his dark eyes grew moist. He only managed to nod and gestured toward the trail. “Go on down, Princess.”

  Her eyes were blinded by tears as she started down the trail and rode toward the small fire, where Hurd sat on a blanket. He was unshaven and red-eyed. She had never seen him look so bad.

  “Sunny, is that you?” Hurd stood up and held up his hands to show he was unarmed.

  She took a deep breath of relief. So he was going to abide by the rules of the bargain.

  He rushed to meet her and help her from her bay horse. “Oh, God, Sunny, my darling, are you all right?” She could only nod and choke back sobs.

  He looked anxiously into her face. “Has he hurt you? You’re crying. If he’s hurt you, I’ll—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I—I’m all right, Hurd, but I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “It can wait, my dear,” he embraced her stiff body while she stared at the campfire. There was a running iron in the flames, glowing orange hot. Surely he hadn’t intended to . . .

  “Now you just get out of the clearing, Sunny,” he steered her away from the fire, “and let me deal with this half-breed.”

  “Where’s Joe?” She looked around. “I figured he’d be with you.”

  “Never mind.” He turned toward the trail. “Where’s that damned gunfighter?

  “He’s not coming, Hurd; he’s riding on back to Texas. That’s good, isn’t it? There won’t be a showdown, and no bloodshed.”

  “No showdown?” Hurd began to curse, and when she looked at him, she wondered if he was deranged. “I should have finished that damned half-breed fifteen years ago, and I would have if it hadn’t been for Swen.”

  She blinked. “So you really were the one who branded him?”

  He nodded and grinned, and she saw madness in his eyes. “He was riding with rustlers, and I thought we should finish him off when we lynched the other three, but your lily-livered father stopped me. Swen was always too soft to survive in this tough country.”

  She felt horror and backed away from him. “Hurd, let’s ride out right now.”

  “No, I’ll go after that red-skinned bastard,” Hurd babbled, “and then I’ll take you back to the K Bar—”

  “Hurd, listen to me. I’m not going to marry you.” She said it resolutely. She was no longer a timid, pliant girl. She was a strong-willed woman, and she would not be silenced. “Hu
rd, I’ve found Dad’s money, and I want you to put me on the evening train to Boston.”

  “No,” he shook his head and grabbed her by the shoulders. His breath was sour with whiskey. “No, you don’t mean that. I love you, Sunny; I’ve been waitin’ for you to grow up so you could be my wife and queen of the K Bar and all of the state.”

  She tried to pull out of his grasp. “I’m sorry, Hurd. I don’t mean to hurt you, but I don’t love you. I will not marry you.”

  He glared down at her, shook her. “You’ve changed. What is it? It’s that gunfighter, isn’t it? Have you—have you given yourself to him?”

  She knew there was no use to lie—it must be shining from her eyes. “I love him, Hurd, but he wants me to go to Boston, so there’s no point in a showdown. He’s riding out.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “You’ve given yourself to him?” he screamed at her. “That half-breed saddle tramp, and after everything I’ve done, everything I’ve built just for you?”

  He was almost rabid, and she suddenly realized she didn’t know this man like she’d thought she did. This one might be capable of anything. “I’m sorry, Hurd.” She tried to calm him down. “Why don’t we go into Wildfire and discuss this sensibly while we wait for the train?”

  No!” He roared and hung on to her. “You will marry me! I didn’t kill your father so you could get on a train and leave me!”

  She jerked away from him, stunned with disbelief. “But I thought Dad wanted me to marry you—”

  “No, but that doesn’t matter,” he babbled. “Swen’s dead and now you’re mine, and I’ll kill that damned gunfighter and lay his head at your feet as a wedding present, darling.”

  She screamed and fought to get away from him, and he grabbed her and slapped her hard.

  “There’ll be no train trip to Boston, my sweet. You’ll take me on as you took that damned Injun and give me sons.”

  She cried and fought him, scratching his face. “I won’t marry you. I’d rather be dead!”

  Hurd turned abruptly, and she whirled to look the direction Hurd was staring. She heard the sound of hoofbeats coming at a gallop in the twilight. It was Diablo, and he was coming at a dead run, fury etched into his face. “Get your hands off her!”

  “Look out!” She screamed, realizing her love was now within rifle range as Hurd dived into the blanket and came up with a Winchester. He laughed madly as he aimed at the coming rider.

  She would not stand by and let Hurd kill the man she loved. Without thinking, she grabbed the running iron, glowing red-hot in the coals.

  “No!” she shouted, and she swung the sizzling iron even as Hurd aimed the rifle. She caught him across the face with the hot iron. He screamed as the shot went wild, and he dropped the gun.

  Hurd fell to the ground, writhing and clawing at his burned face. She grabbed the rifle and backed away, even as the gunfighter came off his running horse. “You dirty sonovabitch!” Diablo shouted as he grabbed Hurd, hit him hard in the face. The rancher stumbled backward, and Diablo followed him, struck him again and again. “How dare you hit a woman!”

  She saw Hurd dive behind a log, come up with a pistol. Diablo was unarmed, his holster hung from his saddle horn on Onyx, across the clearing.

  “Now!” Hurd said and aimed the pistol, “now you red-skinned bastard, I’m going to kill you like I should have done in the first place!”

  He was going to kill her love. She didn’t think—she acted instinctively, raising Hurd’s rifle and firing.

  “You shot me to save him!” Hurd looked at her in sudden surprise, then down at the blood spreading across his tan shirt. “You—you were such a docile, mindless girl. . . .”

  He took a step toward her, then crumpled and lay still.

  Diablo stared at the dead man; then he looked at her and took a deep breath. “Well, it’s over.”

  Her hands felt numb, and she dropped the rifle. “Oh, my God.”

  “It’ll be okay, Princess,” Diablo whispered. “Catch the bay, and I’ll take you to the train myself.”

  She nodded dumbly and started through the brush behind the log. That’s when she found Joe shot in the back. It was his Colt Hurd had grabbed. “I reckon Hurd killed him,” she said. “He really was insane.”

  The gunfighter strode over and looked down. “It’ll be dark soon. I’ll bury them both, and you turn their horses loose. We don’t need them, but some poor farmer might put them to use.”

  She nodded and walked out into the brush. Then she cried out with delight. “Hey, the dun’s here and her filly!”

  She was so glad to see her dad’s mare she put her arms around the mare’s neck and hugged her while the dun nuzzled her shoulder and the filly ran up to her, nibbling on her pink dress. She turned the sorrel and the white horse loose and led the dun mare back to where Diablo was digging two graves. She and Wolf watched silently as Diablo put both men in the holes. Then she walked over, picked up the running iron, and brought it back.

  Diablo took it from her, stared at it a long moment, then tossed it in Hurd’s grave. “It’s finished, after all these years.”

  She nodded as he filled in the graves. “Yes,” she agreed, “it’s finally finished, and now I know the truth.”

  By the light of the little fire, she looked at Diablo. “Your friends are buried here?”

  He pointed. “Right over there. Swen buried them for me, although I tried. I was too hurt to do it.”

  She walked out through the clearing and came back with an armful of spring wildflowers, and the two of them scattered them under the three cottonwoods.

  “Diablo—Jim,” she said, “I owe you an apology. Hurd told me he killed my father.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here.” He kicked dirt over the campfire. “Let’s go back up the trail to where it turns off, and I’ll escort you to the train. You can either ship your horses to Boston or sell them in town for a good price.”

  She didn’t say anything as he caught the blood bay and changed the saddle over to the dun mare. It was almost dark when he mounted up and whistled to the dog.

  Sunny kept silent as she mounted, and they started back up the trail with him leading the blood bay and the chestnut filly trotting beside its dam. Nothing was said until they reached the place where the trail veered off toward Wildfire. He reined in and looked at her in the moonlight. “All right, Princess, here’s where we part. You’ve got enough money now. By day after tomorrow, you’ll be sipping tea in your aunt’s parlor.”

  She sat there a long moment, thinking. This was indeed a crossroads. One direction led to a safe, secure civilized life in Boston. The other trail led south amid much uncertainty and adventure. Had she gained enough grit to make the right choice?

  “Well?” the gunfighter said. “Why the hesitation?”

  She looked at him, seeing him not with her eyes, but with her heart. She didn’t see a scarred monster; she saw a man who would always love and protect her, and she loved him more than life itself. “No,” she shook her head. “I’ve got enough money to start a small ranch and two fine horses to begin a herd. I’m not going to Boston—I’m going to Texas with you.”

  He looked down at her, shock in his scarred face. “Sunny, no. Don’t be a fool. You don’t owe me anything, and I don’t have much to offer.”

  She raised her little chin in a stubborn gesture. “Do you love me, Jim Durango?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then don’t argue with me,” she answered. “I love you, and I’m going back to Texas with you.”

  He blinked. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. I’ve been a mouse all these years and now that I’ve found love, I’m not going to let go of it.”

  “Oh, Princess!” He reached across and hugged her like he would never let her go.

  She kissed him then, kissed him with all the love she had to give while his broad shoulders shook, and he embraced her so tightly, she w
as breathless. Wolf danced around the horses and barked while the little filly kicked up her heels and neighed.

  After a long moment, she whispered, “Let’s go to Texas, Jim.”

  “With you, baby, I’d go anywhere,” he agreed.

  Then they gave the horses a free rein, and at a gallop, they headed south toward the Lone Star state and the life and love that awaited them there.

  Epilogue

  The Big Bend area of Texas, Autumn, 1893

  Sunny heard the thunder of approaching hooves and Wolf’s welcoming bark, and ran out of the stone ranch house. Shielding her eyes with one hand, she waved to the approaching rider on his big black stallion as he chased the band of wild horses into the corral, and she ran across the yard to slam the gate behind them.

  He rode toward her, his white Stetson pushed back on his black hair. He wore faded blue denims and a red plaid western shirt, but on his feet, instead of boots, he wore knee-high moccasins. The half-breed grinned broadly and dismounted to take her in his arms and swing her up as he walked, the dog running in circles and wagging his tail. “Well, hello there, Princess. You waitin’ for someone, or will I do?”

  She kissed his scarred face thoroughly and laid her cheek against his broad shoulder as he strode toward their cabin. “Well, mister, I was waiting for my husband, but I guess you’ll do.”

  He laughed. “I’d better. What you got for supper?” He put her down in the doorway of the cabin.

  “Oh, don’t you think of anything but food?” she joked.

  He winked at her and put his hand on her bottom. “You know what else I think of.”

  “Later,” she promised, whirling away from him. “There’s a big pot of hot stew, some biscuits, and an apple pie. “Is that the only reason you married me?”

  He grabbed her and kissed her deeply. “Now you know better than that. How’s the boy?”

  “Come look, Jim.” She took his hand and led him to the cradle in the corner where their baby, Swen, slept. “Shh! Don’t wake him. I just got him to sleep.”